Falling, Tumbling, Tripping, and Stumbling
by Psithurism
Summary: "A guy and a girl can be just friends, but at one point or another they will fall for each other. Maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever." Canon, multiple pairing. Chapter 2: Chandler/Phoebe
1. Chapter 1

**Falling, Tumbling, Tripping, and Stumbling**

AN: So this is my first fanfiction in years, I used to write fanfics when I was in high school but I sort of fell out of it a while ago. But over the past year I have been doing a massive Friends re-watch and have gotten the urge to write a story. I read this Dave Matthews quote a while back and my first thought was, "I would totally read a Friends fanfic with this premise" , about the time they all fell in love with each other over their years of friendship, and since there aren't that many Friends writers out there anymore I thought I would take the proverbial plunge and write it myself. I will be writing one chapter per couple and it will basically be all the guy/girl pairings possible within the show (with the obvious exception of Monica and Ross, cause, ewww). This story is totally canon so even though I will be writing Phoebe/Ross or Joey/Monica I am going to try to make it fit within the confines of canon, just as a forewarning. Please review because I would really love feedback on this (i.e. I am nervous about writing again). Gracias!

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><p><em>A guy and a girl can be just friends, but at one point or another they will fall for each other. Maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever.<em>

_-Dave Matthews  
><em>

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><p>Despite the fact that he has been half in love with Rachel for most of his life Ross can still remember the precise moment he fell for her. He could live to be one hundred years old and he would never forget the smell of rain on the sidewalk, the squish of his shoes on the lawn, and the way her hair plastered like a Band-Aid to her forehead. But then again, he's always been a completely hopeless romantic, emphasis on the hopeless.<p>

It was September 12th 1981 and rain had been coming down from the skies for days. He remembers running home from the bus stop, jacket flung over his shoulders and jeans soaked up to his knees. He remembers the frustration he felt that his brand new shoes, the ones he had gotten for his first day of high school, were getting ruined in the unavoidable puddle that had become Long Island. He remembers that it hadn't been a very good day.

Ross had always been painfully aware that he wasn't a particularly cool individual. He knew that he was, for all intents and purposes, a massive geek. And while this tended to be an issue prevalent in elementary and middle school, it was one that he had always been able to brush off. But a summer full of dreams of sudden coolness graced to him by his ascension into high school had given him a sense of hope that he couldn't be squelched no matter how many dinosaur collectibles he owned.

This sense of hope had been promptly dashed within hours of his first day.

He found, to his great dismay, that he was still painfully awkward, especially around girls. He found that none of his peers thought dinosaurs were even half as fascinating as he did. And by the second bell he had learned that being skinnier and ganglier than every other boy made him a prime target for freshmen hazing. By September 12th, three days since the start of school, Ross had learned to keep his head down, had learned to stop trying to talk to pretty girls, and most importantly he had learned that he would probably never be very cool.

It was with this thought in mind that Ross made his mad dash home on that rainy day, only to be greeted by the sight of his little sister's soaking wet best friend struggling with her bike on his front lawn.

He stopped frozen in the rain and watched as she fiddled with the broken chain, occasionally letting out a little scream of frustration every second or so. Her head was turned away from him so he couldn't see her face, but he had known her long enough to approximate the scowl of frustration that she most likely wore.

"Rachel?"

Her head immediately swung around and he was able to catch a glimpse of his predicted expression. But what he hadn't expected was the way her eyes were glassy and noticeably red and how he knew almost immediately that the tracks of wetness that ran down her cheeks weren't just from the rain. "Are you, uh, okay?" His voice was cautious; he really didn't know how to handle upset 8th graders, let alone upset 8th grade girls.

Her scowl deepened and her eyebrows knitted together tighter. "Do I look okay Ross?" Her hands planted themselves firmly on her hips and Ross couldn't help but feel a bit afraid.

"No?" He asked in a meek, hopefully placating voice. "What happened?"

She glared at him for a second longer, obviously debating whether she should continue to be angry with him or not. Eventually the sheer exhaustion (evidence by the tears in her eyes and the shiver that was visibly noticeably) beat out anger and she let out a soft sigh.

"I came over to see Monica, she wasn't in school today and I really needed to talk to her. I was biking over when my chain broke like half a mile away. So I had to walk my bike all the way over here. And then when I get here, what do I find? There's nobody home! Which of course is just so totally typical. Where the heck is everybody?" She spoke without taking a single breath and by the end of her explanation her voice had risen to the squeaking levels of a small mouse. He couldn't help but think she looked a bit like a drowned rat, or maybe like a wet mouse.

"Yeah, Monica and my mom are visiting our grandma, she's been sick."

Her angry scowl quickly evaporated and her voice became quiet and reverent. "Oh. I'm so sorry."

She looked so guilty that Ross quickly waved her off. "You didn't know." He paused awkwardly, realizing that no matter what he was going to have deal with Rachel Green. It was a rather daunting thought. "We should probably go inside though, cause it's-um-it's raining."

Her face stayed blank for a moment, he imagined the shift in tone was a little jarring, but then she smirked. "Really Ross? I hadn't noticed." Her smirk quickly became something softer though; if he had been in a slightly better mood he might've called it a genuine smile.

He rolled his eyes. "I'll open the garage and maybe we can fix your bike." He moved towards the front door as she awkwardly walked her bike to the garage.

Ten minutes later Ross found himself in his garage, slightly drier but a little bit greasier. He fiddled with the bike chain as Rachel, who was rubbing her hair vigorously with a towel, watched. They sat in silence as he worked blindly on the bicycle, as she was lost in her thoughts and he was genuinely confused by the machinations of the chain. He glanced over at the younger girl and quickly saw that her thoughts were causing her to get more and more worked up by the moment. No sooner had he thought this sentiment before her aggravated voice spoke up.

"Why doesn't anything ever work out like it supposed to?"

He refused to look up from the chain, he was terrible at talks like these, and he knew that the longer any conversation like this went on the higher the likelihood that he would end up saying something wrong. He kept his voice short as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"It's like, I always thought that everything would be-not perfect-but, like, better once I got to eight grade, you know."

His eyes snapped up to meet hers as a zip of electricity traveled through him. He gaped at her for a moment while the coincidence of their shared thoughts danced in his mind. He tried to get his head around the idea that Rachel "Perfect and Popular" Green might have the same problems as he did. In all honesty, he half believed that whatever was bothering her was something stupid and shallow, but he was smart enough not to voice that bit of commentary.

Instead he went with the ever insightful, "Ahhh."

This seemed to suffice though because she continued speaking. "I know what you're thinking. 'Oh Rachel is rich, she can't have any _real_ problems. She's popular and pretty so she must have the perfect life.'"

That was _exactly_ what he was thinking but Ross found that now he wasn't so sure. He set the bike chain down and gave her his full attention. "Do you, um, do you want to, you know, talk about it, maybe?"

She didn't respond right away, her eyes darted down to her lap immediately and Ross got the sense that she was suddenly embarrassed. A thought that made him feel extremely embarrassed himself. Of course she wouldn't want to talk about her problems with Monica's geeky older brother. She came here to talk to Monica, not him.

His thoughts were interrupted by her sudden voice. "I'm not very smart."

"What?" He was a bit dumbstruck, of all of the problems she might have had, not "being very smart" was just about the last thing he had thought would have worried Rachel Green.

"Yeah, I almost failed half of my classes last year. The best grade I got was a B. And it was in gym!"

He nodded, deciding it was probably best to just let her get it all out before offering his opinion.

She did continue without any more prodding from him, her shoulders slumping as she spoke. "But at the time I thought it was no big deal. Cause, like, it was seventh grade. And next year was going to be so much easier, cause eighth grade is like the senior year of high school. You can just get by. But it's so much harder. The teachers give homework every night and even when I try to do the assignments I just end up getting C's and it's like why do I bother? And then," her voice hitched as tears once again threatened, "then, Daddy says that unless I get better grades he's gonna send me to a boarding school. He's gonna send me away from my family and all my friends. And I know it's not the biggest problem in the world, it's not like I'm homeless or something. But it's like a problem to me and it just…it just sucks."

The last bit of her rant came out as a soft sigh that he almost didn't catch. Part of this was because it had been spoken so quietly but most of it was because his heart had picked up its pace as she had vented all her problems to him and the pounding of the blood in his ears was actually pretty loud. The sudden revelation that Rachel Green, poster girl for the perfect life, wasn't so perfect tilted his world on its axis and the sun shone down at a whole other angle, bathing Rachel in a whole new light. She looked so sad and lovely, as she sat on the cement of his garage, her hair still wet from the rain, sticking to her head and her eyes wide and glistening with tears. He truly had never seen anything prettier in his life. It took his breath away. He found himself staring at her like she was some kind of slightly damp goddess and he wasn't quite sure how to stop himself. His sudden admiration of her was so new and foreign that he had no idea how he was supposed to regulate it.

She must have finally noticed his, admittedly, creepy staring because her open expression suddenly furrowed. "Ross?"

"What?" He colored with embarrassment. "Um, uh, no." She cocked her head to the right and he quickly shook his. "I mean, uh, yeah, it does suck." He sounded like a complete dork. "You definitely have problems and stuff." She narrowed her eyes in confusion and he felt the flush in his cheeks grow redder and travel down the sides of his neck. "I mean that, uh, your problems are, uh, legitimate to y-you. So they are legitimately…legitimate," he finished lamely.

She just nodded skeptically and with a rush of horror he realized that she probably thought he was patronizing her rather than taking her seriously and a new surge of embarrassment coursed through him. He turned away from her intense gaze and re-focused on fixing her bike. He tried to force himself to be cool as he gathered the words he wanted, no needed, to say in his head.

They didn't speak for a while, the only sounds the rain on the roof and the occasionally clink of the chain. At last he felt confident enough to speak (although not quite confident enough to glance up at her).

"Rachel, I-I know you'll be fine. You are the kind of girl who gets what she wants. I'm sure you'll figure out something." He finally glanced up at her, her face was blank but he continued. "And it-it won't matter if you are in the 8th grade or the, uh, 12th grade or college; cause you have always been…you've always been pretty amazing."

And with that he finally got the chain to fit into the spokes. He let out, what he hoped, was a quiet sigh as he turned to Rachel. He was surprised to find her staring at him pretty intently. He was even more surprised to find that she was smiling, not grinning or anything, but a definite smile. He tried really hard not to feel proud of that smile.

"All fixed. It should at least get you home." He jerked a thumb at the bike and her eyes roved promptly over in its direction. She quickly looked back at him and he saw something flicker across her face, although he couldn't tell what it was; it seemed like gratitude but that wasn't quite right.

"Thanks Ross." She spoke so softly, so sincerely that it took every bit of his focus to stay cool.

"Uh, yeah, of course. No problem." He crossed his arms across his chest, hoping against all hopes that it made him seem a little cooler. All it seemed to actually do was instill a tense, awkward silence. He racked his brain for something intelligent to say but the best he could come up with was, "You want some…juice or something?"

Rachel's strange expression quickly disappeared and she suddenly seemed as awkward as he felt. "Uh, no. No, I'm good. I should get home soon."

"Yeah, yeah of course." He stood completely still, watching as Rachel quickly pulled her bike up. She was just about to get on it when she paused and glanced over at him. Suddenly Ross felt a pair of soft arms wrap around his shoulders and his nose was filled with the light scent of perfume and rain water. But before he even had a chance to process the fact that Rachel was hugging him she pulled away. A small smile played on her face and she looked incredibly amused.

"Thanks Ross. For everything." She hopped onto her bike with a type of grace that astounded him.

"Y-yeah." His head was still spinning a little, words weren't quite able to make the journey from his brain to mouth.

Her smile widened into what he would definitely classify as a grin. "You're pretty cool Ross." And with those parting words she pushed off and began to speed off down the road.

In a dreamlike state Ross followed the path she had taken until he found himself standing at the edge of his driveway, getting soaked once again by the rain and completely ruining whatever was left of his new sneakers. He felt a little tickle in the back of his throat and somewhere in his brain the thought that he was going to be sick niggled like a worm. Yet he stood there, watching her silhouette until it bled away into the dreary skyline, not caring that tomorrow he would have to go back to a school where 99.9% of the student population thought he was an utter loser. Nothing mattered to him as Rachel's words rang in his ears.

Ross, pretty cool.


	2. Chapter 2

**Falling, Tumbling, Tripping, Stumbling**

Author's Note: Wow, I am sorry this update took so long. I had a bit of a hard time with this chapter. I couldn't decide how I wanted to frame each chapter and then I got sidetracked by school but the good news is that I have the next couple of chapters halfway done so there shouldn't be anymore month long wait between updates (fingers crossed and knock on wood). This was also a super fun chapter to write because I love whenever these two characters interact on the show so I really enjoyed writing them. Thank you so much to all of the people who reviewed my first chapter, I'm not expecting many reviews for this story since it hops around with pairings and all but I really really really appreciate every single review I get. They encourage me to write more of this story and of this fandom, so keep them coming!

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><p>New Year's had to be <em>the <em>worst holiday invented. It's like once year someone decided to roll up every bad date, dentist appointment, and visit from his mother into one horrible night and call it an evening of celebration.

This year's holiday was turning out to be no different than the past twenty-four. The night started ominously when Chandler arrived at Monica's, alone, to be greeted by his four friends and their four dates. Ross had naturally brought his wife Carol, Monica and Kip were disgustingly snuggled together on the couch, and Phoebe immediately came over to introduce him to some guy she had apparently met at Woodstock in the 70s judging by his attire and the faint smell of weed that seemed to emanate from him. From there the night got steadily worse, by ten he had spilled some of Monica's, admittedly delicious, dip on his shirt, making him look ridiculous. The large and embarrassing stain also didn't make it any easier for him to successfully hit on Phoebe and Monica's hot friends. So by the time midnight rolled around he was resigned to spending this New Year's solo and un-kissed.

"Hey there Mr. Frowny-face. Why so sad?"

Chandler looked up from his slouched position on the couch to see Phoebe smiling down at him from the arm of the sofa. She looked annoyingly happy and festive with silvery tinsel in her hair and little bell earrings that made a pleasant tinkling sound whenever she moved. Begrudgingly he admitted to himself that she looked rather cute all decked out in her holiday gear, even though the accessories themselves were bugging the crap out of him.

"Eh," he replied as casually as he could. "It's another New Year's and once again I'm the only one without someone to kiss."

Phoebe's face scrunched up into a look of sympathy. "Oh, Chandler!" She gently nudged him and he scooted over as best as he could, jostling the couple next to him that had decided to get a head start on their midnight kissing. Phoebe squished down next to him and playfully bumped his shoulder. "What happened to that girl I saw you talking to earlier? She seemed nice."

"She was nice, but apparently she didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me." This time he definitely couldn't keep his tone casual and his self-pity seeped itself into every word.

"What do you mean?" She asked obviously trying to find some way to comfort him. "She was totally laughing at all your jokes."

Chandler let out an annoyed chuckle. "Yeah, she flirted and ran. Said she had to stop by another party down the block."

"Well maybe she did have to go to another party! But that doesn't necessarily mean she wasn't into you!" Phoebe bounced back with enthusiasm.

"Pheebs! She is standing four feet away from you!"

She swung her head around and spotted the girl Chandler had been flirting with talking to their downstairs neighbor over by the bay window. Phoebe's hands curled up into two angry little fists and she made a little motion of annoyance. "Well she is obviously a horrible, horrible person!" Phoebe cried a little too loudly because the girl in question immediately looked over at the pair in indignant anger.

Chandler, certain that Monica would kill him if he was the cause of a cat fight in her apartment, turned Phoebe away from the girl, trying to send apologetic signals in every direction. "Trust me Pheebs, this is not something worth getting angry over." He laughed self-depreciatingly. "Hell, I'm not even angry about it. Stuff like this is just what happens to me. I'm just _that _guy."

"You are _not_ that guy! You're-you're," Phoebe floundered for the right words before settling for, "You're the funny guy!"

"Yeah cause that guy always gets the girls." A sudden rush of hopelessness ran through him, stemming in part from the disastrous evening and in part from a terrible year dating-wise. He had gone on maybe a dozen dates in the past year and he could count on one hand the ones that actually went well. This night was just the cherry on top of the dysfunctional sundae that was his life.

"The funny guys always _do_ get the girl!" Phoebe cried, tearing him from his thoughts.

He made a loud noise of disbelief. "Oh yeah, name one." Phoebe opened her mouth to reply but he quickly cut her off. "And you can't name a guy from a movie. That doesn't count."

"But that's the most obvious answer." Phoebe whined. Chandler just shrugged and gave her a look that dared her to find an example. She was quite for a moment before her face lit up. "Oh oh! My friend One-Arm Larry-"

"Is this the one who sold accordions on Fifth?" Chandler interrupted.

"No, that's Two-Toed Frank. Duh." Chandler gave his odd friend a sideways glance but remained silent. "No One-Arm Larry took care of a family of swans down by the park and owned fifteen recorders."

"Of course, One-Arm Larry, swan lover and recorder enthusiast." Chandler said unable to hold back his sarcasm.

"Yeah." Phoebe chirped back, either ignoring or not understanding his sarcastic tone. He actually could never tell which it was. "Anyway, Larry was also really funny. Like Bob Newhart funny."

"That's your standard for funny?" Chandler questioned incredulously but Phoebe ignored him.

"And he really liked this girl Cindy, who sold flowers and wax figurines of stray cats at the park on Tuesdays. But at the time she was in a relationship with this other guy, Kevin."

"And did he have any oddly specific job or hobby?" He asked, almost genuinely curious.

"Not really," she replied easily. "Anyway, eventually Larry and Cindy started talking to each other when she came around and BAM!" Phoebe clapped her hands dramatically. "Before you know it they are sharing a pretzel on a park bench every other day."

"So she broke up with that Kevin guy?"

"No," Phoebe answered confusedly, "But they were sharing a pretzel! Don't you see?" She asked excitedly. "That could be you!" She looked off thoughtfully into space. "Although you'd have to buy a lot of recorders." Her brows furrowed. "And cut off one of your arms," she added almost as an afterthought.

"Uhhh, thanks for that Phoebe," Chandler replied cautiously. "But I think I'm going to stick with being two-armed and terrible with women."

"Okay," she said brightly, "suit yourself."

He turned away from Phoebe and put his head in his hand, just praying for the night to be over already. Suddenly someone in the room cried out. "One minute to midnight!" Chandler groaned slightly and began to think of some excuse that would get him out of Apartment 20 in the next minute when he felt a cool hand on his back. He looked up to see Phoebe smiling gently at him.

"I'll kiss you at midnight Chandler." She said, so simply and so sweetly that he almost agreed right on the spot but something stopped him.

"Don't do that Pheebs," he sighed, "I don't want a pity kiss."

"It's not!" She said vehemently. "I really do want to kiss you at midnight! You are one of my best friends. Why shouldn't I want to celebrate the New Year with you?" Chandler smiled crookedly, Phoebe's offer becoming more tempting as the seconds ticked down.

Thirty

"What about Brian?"

Twenty-Seven

"It's Shaun, and I'll just have to make it up to him later."

Twenty

"Really Phoebe, it's fine."

Fifteen

"I'm a great kisser Chandler, you really shouldn't be fighting this so hard."

Eleven

"It's gonna be weird."

Eight

"Probably, but that'll be half the fun of it."

Five

"Okay, as long as it isn't a pity kiss."

Three

"It isn't. I promise."

One

Kissing Phoebe isn't at all what he expected. Mostly because he hadn't really thought about it before the last minute or so, and partially because it felt really nice. She smelled really great, was the first thought that ran through his head. Flowery and crisp. He had never really paid any sort of attention to the way Phoebe smelled before that moment but upon discovering it he couldn't help but think that it suited her. The next thing he registered was that she had very soft lips. Ridiculously soft. Then suddenly everything came rushing to him like a hurricane. She had a hand placed on his thigh and it suddenly felt unbearably hot where she touched him. He realized he had his hand on her waist and incredibly she didn't seem to mind. In fact, they had been kissing longer than what a traditional friendly peck would imply and that fact alone was kinda blowing his mind. People around them screamed and music blasted, but it all seemed muted and far away as he focused on the best kiss he'd gotten all year. Sadly he wasn't sure if it would count as the best kiss of 1991 or the best kiss so far of 1992. Thankfully, in that moment, it didn't really seem to matter to him at all.

What did matter was the fact that Chandler was pretty sure that in the past twenty or so seconds they had been kissing, he had fallen half in love with his friend Phoebe Buffay.

She was sweet. She was fun. She was totally gorgeous. Why wouldn't he fall for her?

He felt her slowly pull back from the kiss and forced himself to meet Phoebe's gaze. His thoughts must have been reflected in his face because Phoebe immediately smiled sympathetically and sighed, "Chandler."

And just like that the spell was broken. Hot embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he suddenly realized how crazy he was being. Him and Phoebe? Five minutes ago he hadn't even considered it. But one kiss with his friend and he was suddenly falling in love with her. How pathetic is that?

Chandler laughed and attempted to cover up the awkwardness he felt, saying, "Wow, Pheebs. You weren't kidding about being a good kisser."

Her expression remained almost tender for a moment, like she couldn't decide if she should let his bout of insanity go or not, before she allowed them to slip back into their usual banter. "Told ya. I'm the best." She paused thoughtfully before adding, "But don't tell Monica. I definitely don't want to compete with her on that one."

He let out a loud, easy chuckle. The awkwardness dissipating effortlessly as they returned to familiar ground. "Now that is a competition I would _love_ to see."

"I'm sure," Phoebe replied dryly but still smiling slightly. She suddenly craned her neck towards the crowd of people gathered in the kitchen. "I better go find Shaun and 'make it up to him' now."

"Yeah, yeah. Go on." He said, a little bit of discomfort slipping into his tone again. Chandler felt her wiggle her way out of her spot between him and the arm of the couch. Looking down at him, she paused and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something but was stopping herself.

"You're a pretty good kisser too, you know." She said softly and sincerely.

Chandler couldn't help the little grin that spread its way across his face. "Yeah?" He asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Totally!" Phoebe bounced.

His grin got even wider as he suddenly felt lighter. "Well would you mind telling some of these girls that?" He joked, spreading his arms out and indicating the room full of females.

"You got it Mr. Frowny-face!" Phoebe gave him one last smile before she headed over to the kitchen to find her date.

As Phoebe walked away, Chandler leaned back into the couch with his hands placed casually behind his head as he thought to himself that maybe New Year's wasn't _the _worst holiday.

Thanksgiving, now _that's _the worst holiday.

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><p>Disclaimer: I own none of the characters seen here. I don't claim them as mine nor do I make any money from these literary endeavors.<p> 


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